


who's in your heart now

by pomme (thatghostlady)



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: M/M, Movie Spoilers, Mutual Pining, Post-Movie, lots of tenderness and yearning because who am i to write galolio without the essentials, thymaina is mentioned in one (1) line bc i cannot resist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22635724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatghostlady/pseuds/pomme
Summary: He might’ve been inclined to make a joke out of the absurdity of it all, but Galo refrained in favor of taking Lio’s leg and placing it atop his. Blood had dribbled down to about mid shin and Galo looks at it for a silent moment before wiping it away gently, a hand resting behind Lio’s knee, holding it still. All Lio can do is look down, his own hands braced against the toilet seat, doing nothing but sitting there and watching.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 16
Kudos: 152





	who's in your heart now

**Author's Note:**

> "have you ever heard a calling  
> but you don't know where the sound is coming from?  
> sometimes love  
> is talking in a whisper"
> 
> [whos' in your heart now - studio killers](https://open.spotify.com/track/3QWQqd2ejm77LdN48qdEQm?si=nIPIw2kJT8-lInjs9zFEtA)

It was a week after the fall of the Parnassus and the disappearance of the Promare and Galo was in his small, makeshift kitchen cooking breakfast. He was humming softly to himself, a tune vaguely familiar but not enough to give a name, as he swayed from side to side. The mornings were nice, Galo liked how the sun had only been awake for an hour at most and how the birds were chirping a melody tinny and sweet. 

And on some mornings, Galo would think about what it would be like to have Lio by his side, adding reason to his rhyme as natural as it is for an artist to hold a sketchbook. He would be on the other side of the counter, watching with a content smile on his face like he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else; Galo would look at him and lean over to hold his face in his hands like he was made to do this and only this. 

Galo began to hum a little louder, his feet tapping an indiscernible rhythm on the linoleum floor. He refused to regard the heat rising on his cheeks and instead focused on matching the tune of the birds outside.

It wasn't long until Galo was plating the breakfast he made and sitting down at his hand-me-down table, a gift from Ignis, although he never explained what for, and everything was warm; he was still humming, because he never really stopped, and he kicked his feet gently against the chair across from him. He was about to get up and get ready for the day until he heard footsteps coming from the lone hallway.

Galo looked up and tried not to squeeze the fork in his hand as he was sure he'd snap it in half. Lio stood there in the entryway of the living room, his shirt, Galo's shirt really, but he wasn't going to think about that, laying low on his shoulders and a yawn escaping his lips. A warmth spreads from Galo's face down to his neck and chest and he swears he can feel a dragon's claw grip his heart, daring him to do more than just look. 

Lio mumbled a low, "G'morning," and shuffled into the kitchen, his bare feet dragging across the carpet and then the kitchen tiles. Galo barely had time to think of anything to say back before Lio was sitting beside him, a warm cup of coffee nestled between his hands. His hair was a god awful mess, the back sticking up in every direction, his bangs tousled from his pillows, and yet Galo couldn't help but be endlessly endeared. 

If it weren’t for the way he knew his voice would crack and the way his hands would shake, Galo would’ve made a remark, but he held it in close to his chest where uneven strokes of a brush painted his heart in clashing colors. 

\-----

The moonlight cascaded into the room through the shades and rested upon Lio's face, his nose and cheeks streaked with beams of light. He was laying on his side, a palm cushioned under his head as he let out small breaths of air. Galo was beside him, intently watching his chest inhale and exhale, as if Lio would suddenly up and disappear if he looked away for one second. As if everything that's happened in the past month would become a desperate dream in order to feel like this, to feel like he could not only love but be loved as well. 

It feels like hours pass as Galo continues to gaze at Lio. He never gets this kind of privilege at any other part of the day and Galo wants to preserve it for as long as he can. The moon is still glowing and shining light into the room and it paints Lio's face like a canvas. A part of Galo likes to think that this is just natural, that the moon had always gravitated towards Lio and made him look like this; like a work that belonged in the L'ouvre.

Galo thinks he's beautiful. 

Slowly, without even really thinking about it, Galo reaches a hand out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind Lio's ear. And then he lets his hand stay there, allows himself to have this intimate moment shared only by himself. His hand rests on Lio's cheek and it takes every part of him not to caress it further and cradle his face as tender as he would a newborn baby. 

There's so much more he wants to do, too, a gentle warmth rising onto his own cheeks. It's not entirely unwelcome, but a part of it feels so foreign and alien that he doesn't quite know what to do about it. So, he just lays there, with his hand on Lio's face and a burning desire in his chest. 

It isn't until Lio shifts that Galo moves his hand, his fingers trailing along Lio's jaw like a paintbrush. He's still asleep, but the hand formerly under his head is now lying on the pillow barren and unheld, and so Galo does something about it. 

As quietly as he can, Galo reaches over and weaves his pinky around Lio's, watching his face for any reaction. There's none, a relief to Galo, but then suddenly he feels a little too bold for his own good. He knows he should just flip over, go to sleep, and forget about everything he's done, but how can he when his heart is full of flames begging to burst through his veins and be free finally, at last. 

Galo slides toward Lio, his heart pounding as his face gets closer and closer and closer. He convinces himself it's not that hard when Lio already has his eyes closed and he doesn't have to see his reaction, so he continues to edge his way in front of Lio's face. Galo looks down at his lips and then back up and he closes his eyes, almost frantic despite the fact no one can see what he's doing except himself. 

And as he gets as close as he can without actually touching Lio, Galo stops. He doesn't even open his eyes as he turns over to face the wall, embarrassment and fear hanging onto every part of him like dripping paint. 

He stares at the wall in silence until he eventually falls asleep, tired from the unfamiliar emotions and thoughts that are constantly being drawn in his head. Galo's soft snores soon drift throughout the room and on the other side of the bed Lio listens. He listens and reaches a hand out, desperate to love and be loved just as Galo wants, but he stops his hand before it touches him, letting it lay against the bed between them.

\-----

It wasn’t that big of a deal, not to Lio at least. He was just trying some things on his new bike and one misguided turn later he had fallen onto the asphalt a little too roughly. All he wanted to do was wash his hands of the dirt and grit and get on with his paperwork for the day, but with the way Galo had walked over to him, grabbing his hand in a silent promise, Lio knew that wasn’t going to happen. 

Galo knows that Lio is an adult and that he is perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but it felt like he was physically unable to take his hand out of Lio’s, a force he couldn’t put a name to keeping their palms locked together in perfect tandem. He drags Lio towards the nearest bathroom and guides him to sit on the toilet, allowing himself to sit in front of him on the floor with his legs folded like a primary schooler. Before Lio can utter any questions, Galo is pulling things out of the bags that rest on his hips. A box of bandaids comes out of one, a roll of gauze and cloth from another, and a bottle of, what is presumably antiseptic, from yet another. 

He might’ve been inclined to make a joke out of the absurdity of it all, but Galo refrained in favor of taking Lio’s leg and placing it atop his. Blood had dribbled down to about mid shin and Galo looks at it for a silent moment before wiping it away gently, a hand resting behind Lio’s knee, holding it still. All Lio can do is look down, his own hands braced against the toilet seat, doing nothing but sitting there and watching. 

Distantly, Galo can hear the other FDPP members walking through the building, Aina’s “I’m going to call Thyma for a bit” is clear as she passes by the hallway, and yet it all feels so far away. They were in their own private world and the only things that mattered were the fingertips brushing down Lio’s leg and the sound of the leaky faucet as it dripped to its own beat. 

“You know,” Lio’s voice was quiet, like he didn’t want to burst whatever bubble they had unknowingly created, “I can do this myself.”

His answer was sure, steadfast, “I know.” 

Lio hummed and left it at that. 

Galo continued to wipe away the blood and gravel clinging to Lio’s knee, his hands oh so benign as if he were handling a precious piece of pottery. He reached for a band aid from the box resting by his leg and placed on the deepest part of the scrape, a small smile gracing Galo’s lips in amusement. Lio lifted his knee and snorted at the little red racing car adorning the bandage. 

He was just about to get up and continue on with his day before Galo grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down, “Not so fast firebug.” 

The wrist in question was turned so his palm faced up, more cuts gracing the surface like rough streaks of a pencil. Galo did just as he did before, tending to Lio’s wounds regardless of how small and minor they may seem. 

Calloused fingers held Lio’s hand firmly, doing the gentlest of work. It was all he could focus on as he sat there in the small, worn bathroom, an indescribable warmth washing over his face like waves painting the shore of a beach. Lio lifted his foot and rested it on Galo’s thigh like before, saying nothing and yet saying everything at the same time. 

Before Galo can even begin to think about what he’s doing, he cradles Lio’s hand towards his face and presses a soft kiss to the center of his palm, his eyes closing with care resting on his cheeks. 

And Lio can’t even be bothered to be embarrassed, almost as if he knew Galo would do something like this. 

“Mother’s magic kiss, huh?” He couldn’t help the rise of the corner of his mouth. 

A faint speckling of red dusts Galo’s nose as he holds Lio’s hand in his, “A habit.” He doesn’t apologize, wouldn’t if everything in his life was on the line. 

“It’s sweet. Thank you.” Lio gets up and this time, Galo lets him. Watches him walk out and hears his footsteps down the hallway. He looks down at his own hands and clenches them tightly, his knuckles turning white from the pressure, and he rubs his fists into his eyes, finally letting out a breath he had been holding since they came in here. 

And down the hallway, leaning against a wall, Lio holds his fist close to his chest, a fire pulsing beneath his hand unfamiliar to him. 

\-----

The days continue like this and slowly they progress into weeks and eventually a month and suddenly Galo can’t tell where he ended and Lio started. It was like a warm gradient of blues and greens that led to red and oranges and everyday those shades slowly came to be a mesh of one single color in radiant harmony. 

It was another night where Galo was sitting out on the balcony, his head resting on his arms as he looked out at the lights flickering around the city. Even after everything that’s happened, Promepolis was just the same as ever, if not even brighter than before. It was comforting, to know that despite all the events and destruction, people still knew how to live and love and be themselves. 

He had closed his eyes to focus purely on the sounds emanating from all around him when he heard a door slide open, the soft patter of bare feet and a blanket brushing against his shoulders. 

“What are you doing up so late?” Galo could tell Lio had just woken up, his voice shrouded in languid tones and hues. 

“Just... thinking, I guess.” 

A hum. 

Galo looks over and sees the lights from the city dance across Lio’s face and it's like something clicks in Galo’s mind. He reaches over and traces his fingertips over Lio’s cheek, rubbing his thumb gently in smooth streaks. Beside him, Lio looks into his eyes and deeper, saying all the things he wants to hear without actually opening his mouth. And it’s as it’s always been, the two of them understanding each other and just knowing what the other wants like they were one in the same being. 

Eyes close in unison, a hand trails up an arm and rests on a neck. A soft sigh and an insistent tug. 

And it’s not like fireworks that shine brilliant colors or sparks that fly through the air in various shapes. It feels like a gentle whisper on his lips and Galo holds on tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> once again i have to promote me and my gf's ever growing [galolio](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/39xVqW2te4wbmw3x2AshSL?si=EC6KVzS7TxWZAwE1fES1yg) playlist 
> 
> sorry for saying "warm" and "soft" and "gentle" all the time. i am apparently obsessed with using those words at any possible moment


End file.
